"Rejected! Take this trash away!" The governor of Horseinberg spoke in an annoyed tone.
Inside a large skyscraper, at the topmost floor, stood Mark. He had just finished his robot after two years of hard work. He had come here to the governor's office for approval so it could be moved to the president's quarters for further checks.
He needed the money. He knew how many sleepless nights he had endured to make this robot, and getting rejected like this..without it even being tested—was more heart-wrenching than he thought possible.
He pushed his round glasses back up with his fingers as they kept sliding down his nose. His slightly disheveled brown hair that stuck to his sweaty face despite the cold room was proof of how he had rushed here, and his rumpled coat said even more.
"P..please, Governor, you need to try it first, I promise…" Mark tried to convince him, but the man interrupted as he stood.
"Nonsense! What an insult! Who even allowed you in here? Why would you bring such…" The man glanced at the robot inside a see-through box that could be rolled. It stood there shut down.
"You are a fool! Are we in the past? Why bring such ancient trash? I tell you, many are competing to make robots exactly like humans—with skin and emotions." He spoke with clear irritation, his voice rising as he added, "And here you are bringing this blue metal? This is not your calling. Go make children's toys!"
Mark's face turned pale. He was stranded. What was he going to do now? He had actually sold his house to make this robot and had hoped it would be accepted for future high ranks as he also needed money.
He was so confused. So the reason for rejection was simply because he did not give the robot human-like skin? He couldn't. It wasn't made for that.
"Get out." The man straightened his suit and walked toward a see-through chamber. As he entered, his face returned to a neutral expression.
"What medium do you want, sir?" the robot inside spoke.
"Extra straightened," the man answered. A soft sound echoed as the little wrinkle in his suit smoothed out. He stepped back out.
Mark just stood there. He couldn't believe what was happening. He was trying to show the world his life's work, and yet this man was only focused on straightening his suit.
"You do not want me calling security," the governor said coldly.
Mark fell to his knees. He hadn't even eaten that morning—he had been so excited, so sure. He needed money, and that was why he had put his entire mind and soul into this project. And now it was rejected, only because of its looks.
"P..please, how about I show you… let me just show you how it works! This robot is unique, I swear, please…"
The man moved, a smile resting on his lips very unpromising smile. He sat calmly at his desk, picked up his pen, and pressed a button. The door opened, and a bald man walked in. His face was cold and neutral, his suit straighter and sharper than Mark's entire life at this point.
"P..Please, sir, at least let me take it home with me. This cannot be d..destroyed..I beg you." His voice cracked. One thing about this system: once rejected, the invention was eliminated immediately. If Mark had known, he would never have brought it here. They were heartless…wouldn't even let you take it back.
The man didn't care. He gestured, and the bald man lifted Mark effortlessly.
Mark just stared into empty air, utterly shocked and dumbfounded. Nothing could have prepared him for this.
The bald man carried him into the elevator over his shoulders. As it began its slow descent, Mark's eyes drifted to the glass walls. The ride would take a full minute to reach the ground floor. Finally, the man dropped him, and Mark collapsed onto the floor. He sat there, resting his head on the glass walls as he pushed his glasses aside.
"I am cooked. I..I am fucking cooked. What do I do now? Why are you all wicked? Why? My years of pain, all to make the most perfect piece, have just gone to waste. W..Why..?" He kept ranting.
The stoic man's face flickered for a moment, showing something—an emotion, perhaps…but then it vanished back to neutrality.
Mark's eyes widened as if something finally clicked. "You… are a robot."
The bald man finally shifted his gaze. The thing about robots was that no one knew who was real and who wasn't. That was the entire goal—to blend in as humans.
"Your veins are softer than usual… and your shoulders, when you carried me, felt too stiff. Your creator tried to be too perfect…" Mark muttered. He was trying to distract himself, but his words were still true. The robot seemed almost… shocked.
"You have to understand… you cannot be human, no matter how you try…"
Finally, the man opened his lips to speak…but before he could the elevator came to a slow stop.
He bent, lifted Mark again, and carried him out of the building. After walking some distance, he gently set him down outside. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
Mark sat on the ground. Despite the busy passersby, nobody cared. Above him, air-cars zipped by—the vehicles of governors, presidents, and the rich. On the roads below, only the middle-class and poor drove their second-hand cars. The difference was clear.
He looked broken. The harsh sun was hitting his face, but he didn't care. He just sat there, unmoving. Nobody paid attention…everyone was glued to their phones busy. The glowing green and red walkways guided them so they wouldn't bump into one another, not even needing to look up.
Back at the office, the governor sat tapping his legs impatiently. Frustration built inside him as he tried to calm himself. Yet the robot in front of him only seemed to anger him more.
The elevator opened, and the bald man returned.
"Take this away to the destruction ground," the governor ordered.
The man nodded, rolling the see-through box where the robot lay shut down. He pushed it toward the destruction area.
His eyes fell on the robot again. His expression stayed neutral, but Mark's words echoed in his mind.
At last, he pushed the robot into the destruction chute. He pressed the button, and the floor opened. The box dropped into the abyss.
As it fell, the blue robot's hands twitched slightly.